


all dressed up in bad news

by superhoney



Series: bad news [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Blow Jobs, Cas in Eyeliner, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Facials, M/M, One Night Stands, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: Dean has a strict policy regarding Friday nights: no going out. But when Charlie drags him to a party at her friend's house, he's surprised to find himself having a pretty good time. And then he quite literally stumbles into one of the hottest guys he's ever seen, and all his good intentions go flying out the window.He already broke one rule by coming to this party in the first place. Might as well make the most of it.





	all dressed up in bad news

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, welcome to the porniest thing I've ever written. 
> 
> This will be a series of short-ish fics that will update sporadically between my other longer projects. So yes, there will be more, but no, I don't know exactly when it will appear. Expect more porn but probably some feelings and fluff in later instalments. 
> 
> Disclaimer: unrealistic and probably unwise decisions regarding sex are made in this fic, because it is not real. Please be safe.

_Do you want to come to a party?_

Dean frowns down at his phone screen, wondering if Charlie texted the wrong person by mistake. It’s nine-thirty on a Friday night, and after three years of friendship, she should know that Dean doesn’t go out on Fridays. 

_Wrong number?_ he replies.

_Do you, Dean Winchester, want to come to a party?_

Dean’s frown deepens. He hurriedly opens Facebook and confirms that he hasn’t somehow forgotten about Charlie’s birthday or some other important event that could persuade him to break his rule. Still confused, he calls Charlie, knowing it will be easier to turn her down if she can hear the determination in his tone.

“I know, I know, you don’t go out on Fridays, but come on,” she says as soon as she picks up. “It’s senior year, Dean, and it’s early in the semester.”

“What’s so special about this party?” Dean asks, already scanning over the to-do list in his planner. He’s in good shape for the weekend after a productive day, but if he starts breaking his rule now, he might fall into bad habits, and with applications for post-college life on the line, this isn’t the time to start slacking off. 

“Nothing, really,” Charlie admits. “But Dorothy’s out of town and I’m lonely and I want to go out, and I think it will be fun.”

“You’re not really making a particularly strong case.”

He hears Charlie’s exasperated sigh, and only feels slightly guilty about it. “Maybe tomorrow night,” he suggests. He always reserves Saturday nights for social events. 

“But there’s no party I want to go to tomorrow,” Charlie says, a hint of pleading in her tone. “Does it really matter which day you spend doing something other than studying if it all works out to the same amount of time anyway?”

Dean has heard this argument before, and to be fair, it’s a solid one. He’s even let it convince him a few times in the past. He glances down at his planner again, sighs, and mumbles, “Fuck it.”

Charlie lets out an excited shriek. “I’m coming over,” she announces. “And I’ll call us a ride from your place.”

“Okay,” he says, shaking his head at her enthusiasm. “See you soon.”

He ends the call and tidies up his desk a bit, carrying the empty coffee mugs and banana peels over to the kitchen and wiping everything down. Now that he’s made up his mind, he can admit to himself that he is kind of excited to go out. He keeps his life tightly scheduled because it’s easier that way, easier to stay on track with his schoolwork and his plan for his life, but he knows Charlie is right. Sometimes it’s okay to deviate from the plan a little bit. 

After a quick shower, he’s just pulling on his favourite pair of jeans when the door to his apartment buzzes. Charlie sweeps in, completely unfazed by his shirtless state, and heads straight to his closet, rifling through it in search of something for him to wear. 

“Hello to you too,” he mutters. 

She tosses him a bright smile. “Hello! Are you feeling more dressy or more casual tonight?”

“Well, seeing as you haven’t even told me what kind of party this is…”

“It’s just at my friend Anna’s house,” Charlie informs him. “She and a couple of other girls have a big place just off-campus.”

“Casual, then,” Dean says. Charlie nods and after a few more minutes of searching, passes him a plain dark grey v-neck t-shirt. “With your black jacket,” she adds.

Simple enough. And this shirt is particularly comfortable. Dean pulls it over his head, grabs his jacket, wallet, phone and keys, and gives Charlie an expectant look. 

“If we’re going, we should go before I change my mind,” he says. 

“Our ride will be here in two minutes.” Charlie extends her arm, and Dean takes it with a slight bow, well-used to her theatrics by now. 

It only takes about fifteen minutes to reach their destination, and Charlie regales Dean with the latest gossip from the small but scandalous computer science department along the way. She seems disappointed when Dean doesn’t have any tales from mechanical engineering to share in return, but it’s a bigger department, and Dean does his best to focus on learning, not on the personal lives of his fellow students. 

He lets out a low whistle when the car comes to a stop in front of a large, three-storey house with an immaculately maintained front lawn. It’s certainly a cut above the usual student lodgings, that’s for sure. “I thought you said this was a casual thing,” he murmurs as he and Charlie make their way towards the front door, feeling slightly under-dressed and seriously considering turning around and going back home. 

“It is,” she assures him. “Some of the girls come from money, though, and their parents all pitched in to get this place for them. I promise they’re not horrible snobs.”

Dean isn’t entirely convinced, but he does trust Charlie’s judgement, so he just smoothes one hand nervously over his hair as they push open the door.

A quick glance around confirms that this is exactly what Charlie promised it would be: loud music, groups of attractive young people in all styles of clothing, red plastic cups in pretty much every hand. 

“See, not so bad,” Charlie murmurs, patting him on the arm. “Let’s go find Anna.”

Dean permits himself to be led through the crowded hallways, his smile growing as he’s greeted enthusiastically by people he recognizes from classes over the years. He pauses to chat to Victor, who he had a few classes with before Victor switched his major to Biology, and soon loses track of Charlie in the crowd.

Surprisingly, he’s not worried about it. He accepted the beer Victor offered him, and he’s now on his second, deep in conversation with Victor and another one of his friends, Ash. Maybe this was a good idea after all. 

Dean feels a hand on his shoulder and turns, a smile breaking over his face when he sees Jo standing there with a quizzical look on her face. “What are you doing out on a Friday?” she asks.

“Can’t a guy break his own rules now and then?” Dean says.

“Not if that guy is you,” she counters. “But seriously, it’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Dean replies. He and Jo have known each other a long time, and have been attending the same school for a year now, but they don’t see each other as often as Dean would like. 

“You going to introduce us or what,” Victor says, giving Jo an appreciative glance. “You know what, never mind. Hi, I’m Victor.”

Jo smiles at him, and Dean rolls his eyes. He should have known these two would take an interest in each other. “Victor,” she says. “I’m Jo. You know where a girl can find a beer around here?”

“Bye!” Dean calls out after them as Victor leads Jo towards the kitchen. Victor turns around and flips him off, and Dean just laughs as Ash stares after them, looking impressed.

“That was quick,” he comments. “What about you? You looking for someone tonight?”

Honestly, Dean hadn’t even really thought about it. He only came to this party because Charlie asked him to, not because he was cruising for a hook-up.

There are definitely a lot of attractive people in this enormous house, and Dean’s never had trouble finding someone to spend a night with before. Like most things in his life, he keeps his sexual encounters pretty well-organized. It’s either a one-time thing, the boundaries sharply drawn, or it’s a long-term relationship, though he hasn’t had one of those since high-school. 

It’s been a long time since, well, anything, now that he thinks about it. But that’s not enough to change his mind. He’s having a good time just talking to friendly people, and since he’s barely been drinking, he can still get a full day of work in tomorrow. He’s partying, but he’s partying responsibly. 

“Nah,” he says to Ash. “I think I’m flying solo tonight.”

Ash nods seriously and raises his beer. “Good call, man.”

Dean clinks his bottle against Ash’s and smiles, and before long, new people come to join them in their little corner of the living room and he’s swept up in another conversation.

An hour or so later, the house is practically straining at the seams, packed with so many people Dean’s starting to sweat even though he shed his jacket almost as soon as he arrived. He excuses himself and goes upstairs in search of a bathroom, just to have some space to himself for a few minutes.

Handily, there’s a sign taped to the wall at the top of the stairs, with the word “bathroom” and an arrow pointing down the hall on it in brightly-coloured marker. The door is slightly ajar, so Dean pushes it without thinking, and is startled when he hears a muffled curse from the other side as the door swings right into someone’s body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says hastily, averting his eyes in case anyone’s naked on the other side of the door. 

“Don’t worry about it.” The voice is male, low, and surprisingly, amused. Dean glances up and meets a pair of stunning blue eyes, then swallows heavily as he takes in the rest of the guy’s face. Sharp cheekbones, messy hair, perfectly pouty lips and those eyes, ringed with dark eyeliner that has smudged itself down one cheek.

“You made me mess up my eyeliner, but I suppose that was my fault for leaving the bathroom door unlocked at a party,” the guy continues. He grins, and Dean feels his own lips quirking upwards in response. 

“Rookie mistake,” he agrees. 

The guy turns back to the mirror and wipes the mark off his cheek, then picks up a black eyeliner pencil from the counter, carefully reapplying it and sticking it in his pocket before facing Dean once more. “Better?” he asks.

“Good,” Dean replies. “I mean, it was still good before, it just…”

He can hear himself tripping over his own words and feel his cheeks getting hot, but he can’t seem to stop himself. This guy is pushing all of Dean’s buttons and judging by the way his eyes are lingering over Dean’s face, the interest is mutual.

That helps restore Dean’s confidence somewhat, but he still isn’t quite sure where to take the conversation from there. “So,” he says. He used to be a lot smoother than this. Maybe his earlier words to Ash about not looking for a hook-up tonight are coming back to haunt him. 

“I guess you wanted to, uh,” the guy indicates the bathroom. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“No,” Dean says instinctively, and watches as one dark eyebrow raises in response. “I mean. I just wanted to get away from the noise downstairs for a bit.”

“And now that you’re away from it…”

It’s a good question. Earlier, Dean had been perfectly content with his conversations with friends, and though a few people had given him interested looks, he hadn’t returned any of them. But something about this guy…

Summoning all his courage, Dean grins at him. “I think I’d like to keep talking to you.”

The guy laughs, throwing his head back and giving Dean a very nice view of the lines of his neck, a hint of a tattoo showing beneath the deep V neckline of his black shirt. “Maybe we should go somewhere a bit more private, then,” he suggests. “Wouldn’t want to block the room in case anyone else needs it.”

“Very considerate of you,” Dean replies. It’s pretty clear what’s on the table, and despite the speed with which it’s all happening, Dean is already looking forward to getting his hands all over this guy. He looks like exactly the kind of fun Dean could go for right about now. “But maybe we should, I don’t know, get each other’s names first?”

The guy hesitates for a second, his gaze assessing, and Dean wonders if he made a mistake, if he misinterpreted the comment about privacy, but then he seems to come a decision and nods sharply. “You can call me Cas.”

There’s a good chance it isn’t his real name, and Dean’s okay with that. Part of him is tempted to do the same, to use a fake name and really pretend to be someone else for the night, someone who goes to parties on Friday nights and hooks up with strangers on a regular basis and doesn’t spend all his time studying, frantically trying to ensure that he doesn’t end up a lowlife like his father. 

But the thought of hearing Cas say his name in that gravel-dark voice of his is too tempting to pass up. “Dean,” he offers. No last names. It’s anonymous enough at a party this big, he figures. 

“Have you been drinking, Dean?” Cas asks, suddenly serious. 

It’s a reassuring question, and Dean’s glad he asked, but even gladder that he isn’t lying when he shakes his head. “Two beers,” he answers. “Over two hours.”

“Good,” Cas says with a sharp smile. Then he extends one graceful hand, his nails painted black to match his eyeliner, and catches Dean by the wrist, leading him down the hall.

“You sure no one is going to mind us using this room?” Dean asks as Cas pushes open a door at the end of the hall. 

“I’m sure,” Cas answers. “And this time, I’m going to make sure the door is locked. Though I have to say, it was quite the stroke of luck that I didn’t earlier.”

He turns around, closing the door firmly behind them. Dean hears the lock click into place, but all he can focus on is Cas, standing just in front of him, trapping Dean between his body and the door. Dean swallows roughly, his heart rate increasing, as Cas’ eyes sweep over his body from head to toe. 

“Beautiful,” Cas murmurs, tilting Dean’s face up to meet his eyes. “May I kiss you, Dean?”

“Yes,” Dean sighs, and then Cas’ lips are on his, warm and insistent and so, so good. Dean can feel the rasp of his stubble against his cheeks and he revels in the sharpness of it, the way it heightens all his other senses. Cas smells like deep woods and clear water and his hands are sure and strong as they dig into Dean’s hips, pressing him back against the door as he deepens the kiss. 

Lost in a haze of pleasure, it takes Dean a few seconds to realize Cas’ lips have trailed over his jaw and are currently attached to the side of his neck, nipping gently at the tender skin there. Dean makes a noise of protest and Cas immediately pulls away, eyes searching Dean’s face.

“No marks,” Dean says, then corrects himself. “Well. Not anywhere normally visible.”

Cas groans, his eyes darkening as they lower to Dean’s chest like he’s imagining covering it with his mouth. Dean shivers at the thought and pulls Cas’ face back to meet his own, pushing him further into the room and towards the bed.

They fall onto the bed, still kissing, and Dean ends up flat on his back with Cas looming over him, hands sliding eagerly up under Dean’s shirt and running over the skin of his stomach. Dean squirms slightly under the attention, a bit self-conscious about the softness that never seems to go away despite his regular trips to the gym. Cas must notice, because he pulls his mouth away from Dean’s and fixes him with a steady look, tugging insistently at Dean’s shirt until he raises his arms to help him pull it over his head. 

“Beautiful,” Cas repeats, lightly tracing one finger down the centre of Dean’s chest. He leans forward and places a kiss right over Dean’s heart, then moves his head lower, nibbling gently at Dean’s stomach, the fair skin turning red under his mouth. It feels so good that Dean forgets his insecurities, head thrown back against the pillow and eyes slipping closed as Cas continues to mark up his torso. 

“You look so gorgeous like this,” Cas says. “Will you think of me when you see these marks later, Dean? Will you trace over them and remember tonight?”

“Yes,” Dean answers. He’s too overwhelmed to say anything else, but it doesn’t seem to matter. A satisfied smile tugs at the corners of Cas’ lips and he hides it in the warm skin around Dean’s navel, making him squirm again. 

As much as Dean is enjoying the attention, he soon starts to feel like he’s not contributing enough to this occasion, so he grasps Cas’ impressively broad shoulders and pulls him back into a kiss. Cas makes a noise of surprise but moves easily into Dean’s embrace, swinging one leg over so he’s straddling Dean’s lap. This new position puts their lower bodies into more direct contact than before, and Dean thrills at the feeling of Cas’ hardness pressing against his hip. 

“Take this off,” he murmurs, pulling at the hem of Cas’ shirt. He wants more. More of Cas’ skin bared to his gaze and his touch. 

Cas lets out a low laugh and pulls away just long enough to remove his shirt and toss it aside. Even in the dim light of the solitary lamp, Dean can seen the golden glow to his skin under the curving lines of black ink across his chest and hipbones. He reaches up and traces over the tattoos, delicately at first, but increasing the pressure when Cas’ eyes slip closed and a soft sound of pleasure escapes his lips. 

“That feels so good,” Cas whispers. “Your hands are wonderful, Dean. Keep touching me, please.”

“Keep talking,” Dean replies, breathless. The combination of Cas’ words and that incredible voice of his are making him ache with pleasure in a way he’s never experienced before.

“Do you like it when I talk to you, Dean?” Cas says, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You do, don’t you. That’s good, because I like it too.”

He leans down and places a kiss on the sensitive skin directly under Dean’s ear, his breath warm. “I like the way you touch me, Dean, like you can barely believe I’m real. I like the way you respond so beautifully to everything I do.” His teeth catch lightly on the lobe of Dean’s ear and Dean moans again, arching upwards off the bed. 

“Tell me what you want,” Cas says, his hands splayed over Dean’s chest as he looks down at his face. “There are so many things I want to do with you, Dean, I could never choose.”

Honestly, Dean has been thinking pretty much the exact same thing, but there are a few ideas that stand out in his mind. He hesitates, though, unable to find the courage to ask for what he truly wants. It’s an indulgence he rarely permits himself. 

But he’s already broken a few of his rules on the way to this moment, in this bed with this man, and he thinks maybe it will be worth breaking a few more.

So he swallows roughly and meets Cas’ gaze and says, “I want to suck you off.”

Cas’ eyes go dark with desire as a look of surprise crosses his face. “Oh, Dean,” he murmurs, tracing one finger gently over the curve of Dean’s lips. “I think I would enjoy that very much.”

It’s a flurry of movement after that, two sets of hands scrambling to get Cas’ tight jeans pushed down his legs and removed, with Dean’s taken off at the same time. Both clad in only their boxers, they continue kissing until Dean finally pulls away with some reluctance and slides to his knees at the side of the bed. 

He likes the angle better this way, likes being able to look up into his partner’s face, to see the way their body clenches in pleasure. He likes the way Cas’ hand rests lightly in his hair as Dean carefully pulls down his underwear and gets his first look at his cock, hard and heavy. 

Dean’s tongue darts out and flicks lightly over the head of Cas’ cock, teasing both of them with that small taste. Cas’ other hand clenches in the quilt beneath him, his black-painted nails stark against the smooth white surface, and Dean feels a thrill of satisfaction knowing the effect he’s having on him. 

He leans forward, taking more of Cas into his mouth, keeping his eyes wide and fixed on Cas’ face as he does. Cas’ eyes flutter closed for a brief second before snapping back open and locking onto Dean’s, startling in their intensity.

“You look so perfect like this,” he murmurs. “So good for me, Dean.”

Bolstered by Cas’ encouraging words, Dean redoubles his efforts, working at Cas with lips and tongue, pushing his head further into his touch. Cas’ hand tightens in his hair and Dean moans, then reaches up and takes hold of his other hand, placing it beside the one already grasping his hair. 

He slides off slightly to breathe, and Cas watches him carefully, but Dean just wraps one of his own hands around the base of Cas’ cock and takes the rest back into his mouth, his other hand braced against Cas’ strong thigh to support himself. 

“Yes,” Cas breathes. “Just like that, Dean.” He seems to like saying Dean’s name almost as much as Dean enjoys hearing it. “You’ve got me close already. But I’m not quite ready for this to be over.”

Dean isn’t either, so he tightens his grip around the base of Cas’ cock, and Cas lets out a breathless little laugh. “Perfect,” he says. “Are you enjoying this as well, Dean? I think you are.”

Dean moans in acknowledgment. His own erection is trapped against the side of the bed, and he’s been thrusting forward, desperate for friction. 

“Would you like to touch yourself?” Cas asks, almost managing to sound casual except for the slight hitch in his breath. “Stroke your cock while you have mine in your mouth?”

Nodding frantically, Dean lets go of Cas’ leg and manages to pull his own underwear down enough to free his cock, wrapping his hand around it with a sigh of relief that vibrates around Cas’ cock. 

“Gorgeous,” Cas murmurs. “That’s it, Dean. Let me see you touch yourself. Let me see you fall apart.”

If he keeps talking like that, it won’t take Dean much longer. Once the initial desperation has passed, he slows his hand, establishing a steadier, less frantic rhythm. Cas murmurs encouraging words that Dean barely hears, too focused on the sensation of Cas’ cock heavy on his tongue and his own hand on his cock. 

“I’m getting close, Dean,” Cas says clearly after a few more minutes. “You have to tell me what you want. It worked so wonderfully for us already, didn’t it? I can’t wait to hear what other clever ideas you have.”

Dean moans again, already imagining how gorgeous Cas will look when he comes, how those blue eyes will shut and that perfect mouth will fall open on a curse or maybe on Dean’s name. And he knows exactly what he wants, but it isn’t easy to ask for.

Cas must sense his hesitance, though, one hand slipping from Dean’s hair to lightly cup his cheek. “You deserve whatever you want, Dean,” he says softly. “Tell me.”

Dean pulls off Cas’ cock long enough to look up at him and takes a deep breath. “I want you to come on my face.”

He’s never said those words out loud before. He’s only let someone do it once, and it took him by surprise at the time, both the act and how much he enjoyed it. He doesn’t know Cas at all, really, but he trusts him. And Dean really, really wants this. Needs it, maybe. 

Cas’ head tips back as he groans, his hand tightening in Dean’s hair. “God, you’re perfect,” he says. “I didn’t think you could look more beautiful than you do right now, on your knees with my cock in your mouth, but that…”

His hips snap forward, and Dean meets him eagerly. He mostly has his hand on Cas’ erection now, just mouthing at the head, knowing it won’t take much longer for Cas to reach his climax. 

“Dean,” Cas warns, his breathing ragged, “Dean, I’m going to--”

Dean closes his eyes and tilts his face upwards as Cas’ orgasm sweeps over him, his cock pulsing in his hand, come splashing warm and thick on Dean’s cheeks and chin and lips. Cas does mumble something that sounds like a curse as he shudders his way through his release, and when Dean opens his eyes again, Cas is staring down at him like he’s the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

Still slightly out of breath, Cas says hoarsely, “Come here,” and pulls Dean up by the shoulders until they’re both sprawled on the bed once more. He pushes Dean’s boxers down the rest of the way and reaches for Dean’s neglected cock, still staring at Dean’s come-covered face.

“Let me see you come,” he practically begs. “Please, Dean.”

It doesn’t take long. Dean’s been on edge basically since Cas pushed him up against the door and kissed him within an inch of his life. A few strokes later, and Dean is coming, spilling onto Cas’ hand and his own stomach as he murmurs Cas’ name. 

After giving Dean a second to catch his breath, Cas leans over and kisses him deeply, heedless of the mess on Dean’s face. It’s passionate and surprisingly affectionate for near-strangers, and Dean melts into it, wrapping his arms around Cas and pulling him in tighter.

He wishes they could stay like this all night, but he knows that isn’t how one night stands work. So after a few more lazy kisses, he pulls away, thankful to find a box of tissues on the nightstand. He wipes off his own face and torso, then passes the box to Cas, who takes it silently, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face.

He starts to say something, and then shakes his head, cleaning himself up and tossing the used tissue into the garbage at the side of the bed.

“Well,” Dean says. This part is always awkward, no matter how comfortable the sex was. “I should probably get going.”

“You don’t have to,” Cas says. He’s propped himself up on one elbow, splayed across the bed in all his naked glory, and Dean wants nothing more than to curl back into his arms and trace over the lines of his tattoos until they both fall asleep. “It got...a bit intense, there. I think we’d both benefit from not walking away so quickly.”

“Too intense?” Dean asks, hating himself for the doubt in his voice. He thought Cas understood, he thought it was great, he thought they both enjoyed themselves, but what if Cas was just pretending, what if--

Cas reaches out and takes hold of Dean’s wrist, his grip so light Dean barely feels it. “It was perfect,” he says firmly.

Dean doesn’t get the impression that Cas is the kind of person who lies to make people feel better, which, oddly enough, results in Dean feeling better anyway. He allows Cas to pull him back onto the bed and draw the covers up over both of them. Dean curls into Cas’ side and rests his head in the space over his heart, one of Cas’ arms wrapped comfortably around his body. 

The sex was great, but this has its own charms. Cas is solid and warm against him, and Dean isn’t even thinking about all the things he has to do over the rest of the weekend. He’s just content and sated, his eyes already slipping shut. 

“Night, Cas,” he mumbles just before sleep takes hold of him.

He thinks he feels the barest brush of lips against his cheek. “Goodnight, Dean.”

And with that, Dean’s breathing evens out and he drifts away to sleep. 

He wakes up alone.

Disappointed but not entirely surprised, he rolls over, the other side of the bed cold and empty. He shakes his head at himself-- what did he expect? They never made any promises to each other. He’s still not even convinced Cas was his real name. And besides, he doesn’t have time for anything serious right now.

This is probably for the best.

It’s not until he reaches down to pick his underwear up off the floor that he sees it, and when he does, a smile creeps across his face in spite of himself. 

Ten digits, scrawled across his inner arm in what looks like black eyeliner.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Anna and Diamond for reading this over for me, as always.


End file.
